The Next Chapter
by Ellipses
Summary: After returning to District 12, how on earth did two broken souls end up finding their way back to each other?  Expanded Mockingjay chapter 27  K/P, 3-part.
1. Part 1

Title: The Next Chapter

Author: Ellipses

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything really except my own words.

Summary: After returning to District 12, how on earth did two broken souls end up finding their way back to each other? (Expanded Mockingjay chapter 27) K/P, 3-part.

AN: I know this storyline has been done to death, but I still had some questions to ask of both characters and wanted to incorporate a few missing pieces that I felt were important to the development of the relationship. It's more an insight into their state of mind than a story, because of course you already know the story and this just fits right in with the real chapter 27/epilogue. Katniss POV

**Part 1**

I don't know how I should feel about this place – post-rebellion Panem, recovering District 12, this house in the Victor's Village, the right here and now...it all still feels like it could all crumble down again in the blink of an eye, as if I'd just dreamt it all and I'm about to wake up at any moment in some hospital bed (again) with Prim by my side, looking after me like she shouldn't have to. I'm the one who looks after her, not the other way around.

The scent coming through the window beside me brings me back to reality. The primrose bushes Peeta planted for me. Right, a reality which goes on without her. Where I go on without her. It doesn't feel right, and it never will. Like parents outliving their children. I practically raised her. I don't even feel right about living in this house. Built by the Capitol, earned by the taking of lives. Our old house is a mere pile of ash though, so it's here or nothing.

It seems like things are starting to return to some version of normal when I go back to hunting. And although I'm alone, I don't think I would want any company anyway. I can't see Gale's face without thinking of Prim and that alone makes me wonder less about his true involvement. It doesn't matter anymore. I lost Gale as soon as I left District 12 for the Quarter Quell anyway. He was never again the same person that I thought I knew just 2 years ago when all he wanted was to run away with me. The rebellion turned him into a soldier, not my hunter, and now I wonder how he could have the heart to love me and still have been heartless enough to devise such a cruel trap. I underestimated his hatred for the Capitol in hindsight.

I scan the forest floor for the faintest of tracks; I've roped Greasy Sae into making us something more substantial for tonight's dinner pot. I haven't needed her to take care of me for a little while now, but it is Peeta's 18th birthday today and I wanted to do something special for him. And I don't want him to be alone tonight. I was lucky, I think, compared to him. At least I still have my mother, him, Gale, Haymitch...all alive. But Peeta, well, it looks like I'm all he has. I can bury my pain for one night, for him.

I take aim and hit my target – the deer will keep a lot of people fed tonight. I'm still weak though, so it takes me what feels like an eternity to carry my prize back to the gap in the fence at the Meadow. Before I reach it though, I see a familiar mop of blonde hair amongst the bushes.

"Peeta, I can see you. Could you maybe give me a hand with this?" I direct my voice towards the bushes, putting the full force of my exhaustion into it but instead it sounds more like a plea.

He emerges. "Sure. Front or back?" We tie the front, then back legs together and loop a sturdy branch between. I take up the rear since the front is heavier with the weight of its head and all.

"So, what brings you to this neck of the woods?" I ask, realising that I'm not too sure I've ever seen Peeta in these parts before.

"Memories. I couldn't find anywhere in town that I actually wanted to be. So I came out here."

We put the deer down and duck underneath the fence. The Meadow beyond is no longer a big ditch, though the grass is slowly covering the disturbed earth, like a wound healing and swallowing all those bodies whole. It reminds me of the nightmares I had about those I had killed or been responsible for killing all shovelling ashes over me in my grave. Not had, have. I still get those nightmares.

"Same. Except nabbing this little guy was also on the agenda. Surprise, happy birthday," I say lightly, feeling myself smile for the first time in...well, I can't remember the last time I smiled. I didn't smile that much before all of this happened to us anyway.

"You remembered?" He glances back at me and I shrug. Somebody else reminded me yesterday, but I'm not about to let that detail slip.

I see a few of the builders working on the construction site that used to be the town square eyeing my deer as we pass them by. I mentally note to ask Greasy Sae to make something with the leftover meat to share amongst everyone tomorrow, on me. They need the energy after all.

Later that night it's just me and Peeta in front of the fire at my house. There's not much warmth in either of our homes now that they stand virtually empty. We spend a lot of silent nights like this, sometimes interspersed with the usual "Real or not real?" whenever Peeta's thoughts wander into something unfamiliar. I can tell he's doing a lot better. He even seems normal when he interacts with anyone other than Haymitch and I. But on nights like these, when silence forces us to remember, I can see the ongoing battle he has within himself. Me, I don't think I even try to hide it since it plagues me no matter where I am, who I'm with or what I'm doing. Peeta's always been stronger than me in this way. That scent, however, it's causing untamed tears to roll down my cheek. I appreciate the gesture, it's just that that's my way of grieving for her right now. He understands that and doesn't try to comfort me or anything.

"You can hear force fields with your left ear. Real or not real?" He suddenly asks.

It makes me smile in spite of my tears. "Both. I said I could. But I can't."

"I know," he replies with a small smile. I can see what he's trying to do, and I'm glad for it. Lord knows I'm useless at that, knowing what to say.

I turn my head to look at him, wondering out loud, I guess it was. "Do you still love me?"

He doesn't look at me. He keeps looking straight at that fire and I'm reminded of the first time he admitted to his feelings. Back when I was the girl who was on fire, just not literally. We seemed like two completely different people. We were just kids back then. Some would say we still are.

I don't keep my hopes up when he doesn't answer at all and I realise I don't want him to answer. How would I deal with either? Especially when I still hadn't made up my own mind. I don't know why I even asked, but I decide we're both not ready to answer that question. Maybe one day, but not today.

We both head upstairs to my room where we fall asleep in each other's arms for the first time since...well, I can't even remember the last time. But we both keep the nightmares at bay for one night at least. I don't know what my feelings are, but at least I feel safe.

* * *

><p>As the haze of sleep starts to fall away the next morning I remember where I am and my eyes snap open. Seeing his clear blue eyes staring right back startles me for a moment before I recognise his expression of fondness rather than the hatred I'd grown used to not long ago. When he would instead have been chained, manacled, guarded and strapped down. Dr Aurelius must be good at something after all. With that as reassurance for my own recovery, I prop myself up.<p>

"Good morning."

"Morning," he says, and that slightly sleepy drawl is music to my ears. I don't have to worry about him not sleeping as well as I apparently have.

"Hungry?" Yes, we are of little words nowadays. He nods and we get up as if this, us sleeping like this, is the most natural and commonplace thing in the world.

We eat almost silently in the kitchen. Cereal and a few pieces of fruit. I'm glad I killed Coin sometimes, just so I never have to have rationed gruel again. Nevertheless, that move was about so much more and I'll always be glad to have done it. The only death I'm happy to claim responsibility for. President Paylor appears to be doing an excellent job too.

The silence is broken when Peeta says, "Thank you for staying with me for my birthday."

I nod my head and we both understand what he really means. But there's not really enough words for that.

He leaves not long after and I'm left to my own devices again. At least he has something purposeful to do. What am I supposed to do? Do I even have a role? With the demise of most of the merchant class in District 12, and even fewer who have returned, Peeta is teaching his baking skills to a few apprentices he is taking on to help continue his family business. We'll all have to learn something new it seems, since the mines are closed indefinitely and reconstruction is the priority. Bread seems to be in high demand. Not surprising since he's the only baker in 12 right now. Almost everything we need is being transported in by train.

He asked me to join his class one time, but I said no. It wasn't because of any real reluctance, 'no' just popped out, and maybe it's a good thing it did. Like how hunting is my thing, not ours. But hunting was our thing, me and Gale's. And look how that turned out. I'm angry at him right now, but not just because I can't forgive him. More because I feel deceived by the idea that he didn't seem to love me enough to even try to earn my forgiveness. I feel like Prim deserved at least for him to try. He'll get over me quickly. He'll probably even forget why he loved me. Or maybe he only thought he loved me because it seemed like the obvious thing to feel.

As I head out towards the Meadow I can already smell the amazing aroma of fresh bread coming from Peeta's house. That's his bakery for now while the town square is being rebuilt. I make a mental note to do what I can to help the builders finish on time. Make myself useful.

For today though, I'll hunt small game to supply fresh meat to the soup kitchen Paylor has helped Greasy Sae start up ever since I stopped needing her to take care of me. It feeds the people who are just returned and getting back on their feet. The unemployed, crippled, sick, widowed, homeless, orphaned...the list seems to go on. Even those who don't fall under any of these categories are only just scraping by right now. Still, this is better than before the rebellion since no one goes completely without. Soon they won't need me though. District 10 is helping us to set up a few small farms so that we can eventually become self-sufficient for meat. What will I do then? Take up the role of the local butcher? I think I've killed enough for a lifetime.

When I return home that afternoon I find a small basket of rolls on the kitchen bench and Peeta hunched over our book. This is a common scene but I wasn't expecting him so early. He seems to be sketching.

Wordlessly, I skin and gut the rabbit I brought back for our dinner tonight and set it aside. As I join him, I realise he's working on Rue's page. He's painting the flowers I spread around her. I think she would've been proud that I made it all this way, with the help of our alliance. I wonder what would've happened without the alliance Peeta enabled with his declaration of love for me all those years ago. I'd probably be dead so it doesn't matter.

"You're over here early," I finally say.

He seems absorbed by the shape of one of the petals so it takes him a moment to notice I'm even there. "What? Oh, that," he says as he puts down the brush. "I had a bad one today so I let everyone go home early."

Peeta has those sometimes, like nightmares except you're awake. Flashbacks, he likes to call them, but they're not really flashbacks since they're not all real memories. He grabs onto chairs, tables, anything to keep his grip on reality. He says that it helps him to control the urge to lash out. I'm glad he told me this time. He doesn't want me to worry. The bad ones tend to be about torture and screaming. I suppose it's the real memories that are hardest to get over.

I don't ask about it. Instead I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder and he does the same. We could've stayed like that forever, but we pull away reluctantly when Buttercup starts trying to lick the paint from the palette. I grab him by the scruff of his neck and put him back on the floor. We both carry on with what we were doing.

As the rabbit stew is simmering, Dr Aurelius' call at 6 o'clock sharp interrupts our busy silence. We talk for a few minutes and promise to speak again in a few days' time. I pass the phone to Peeta when we're done and he looks better for it afterward.

We enjoy our stew with the bread and we chat about the progress District 12 seems to be making. I tell him I stopped by his new shop space and that the foreman roped me in to help out for the next week or so. Truth is, I practically had to twist his arm to let me help but Peeta would never accept that from me. I guess he just worries because it seems like we only just got each other back. He can be so overprotective sometimes but I can understand that.

Later we settle into our routine now of whiling away the evening at my house and doing various things like working on the book, sitting in front of the fire and sometimes even tuning into the new television shows. I finally ask him something I'd been wondering for a while. "Why did you come back?"

"For you." It's the answer I dreaded and hoped for at the same time.

"I'm glad you came back."

"I'm glad I came back." And that's that.

* * *

><p>A few days later we are watching some television program Plutarch devised. That singing one he asked me to be on. We see Gale on it (not singing, thank goodness) and he seems to be enjoying his new life immensely. He seems rather at ease being in the public eye like Peeta used to be, which is a surprise. We both reach to turn it off at the same time.<p>

"He seems happy," Peeta says. I'm not sure if he means it, or whether he's feeling bitter about it on the inside...I just can't seem to read him today.

So I ask, "Does that bother you?"

He shakes his head and replies, "No. I'm happy for him. He doesn't have to go through the sort of hell we've been through. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy."

"Is he your worst enemy?"

He turns to me and says, "No." Again I feel a little confused but then I realise he could be referring to me and the heartache I put him through all on my own. If he said that to me right now, I would be devastated. He's hated me before but not when he was sane.

"I'm sorry," I say, though I know it doesn't make any difference and I don't even know what exactly I'm apologising for. But I know that words can only do so much.

"No, don't be. It's not your fault. I'm my _own_ worst enemy. Or at least, my thoughts and memories are."

It lifts a weight off my chest I didn't know was there. I guess I'm still carrying around my guilt about not staying with him in those last moments in the arena, though I know logically now that that was an impossible situation I could not have predicted the consequences of.

"No that means your enemy was Snow, not you. You're probably the best person I've ever known and there was _never_ anything bad inside you. But somehow he forced it in there anyway. Those bad memories weren't real, and they weren't really yours."

He absorbs that for a moment and nods. I want to tell him daily that he's a good person and that he will never lose that no matter what Snow did to him. "You're a good person Peeta. You'll never lose that. You're a good person. You're a good person..." I say it over and over like a mantra.

"Thank you," he finally says when I've trailed off. "Do you think you could ever love me?"

"Yes," I say without hesitation. And that's that, for today.

* * *

><p>Reviews appreciated muchly...which means the sooner I'll post the next part.<p> 


	2. Part 2

Title: The Next Chapter

Author: Ellipses

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything really except my own words.

Summary: After returning to District 12, how on earth did two broken souls end up finding their way back to each other? (Expanded Mockingjay chapter 27) K/P, 3-part.

**Part 2**

Peeta's new bakery is ready to re-open its doors to the public and I'm helping him out just for the day. It almost feels normal to see all the people coming through like nothing's changed. Of course, there's nothing normal about any of it except that each day seems to bring us closer to stability. I don't bake, but at least I can add, subtract, multiply and divide so I just help out out front. It's comforting to see all the familiar faces and sometimes I get some mixed responses. Clearly some people have been burned as badly as I have by the loss of their loved ones.

There is no demand for the pretty confections all frosted and colourful that Prim and I used to admire in the window. Any extra money that anyone manages to scrounge up goes back into repairs, provisions, medicines. The window just displays regular bread right now. I hope to see Peeta make those again in the future though. I think it makes him happy the same way I feel when I'm in the forest.

Life is going on without Prim and my mother. She calls sometimes but her calls are few and far between nowadays so I'm glad for the human contact my work here today has provided. It can be a bit depressing when all I have for company is a drunk, an angry cat, and Peeta who still has his ups and downs. I feel like we've come a long way though. And it certainly helps that we're not getting nightmares as often now that sleeping at my house has become an almost daily occurrence.

I'm glad he had the foresight to put his hand over the nightlock that day of the assassination. If we hadn't both made it out of all this alive I don't think the other would've been able to recover from that. It reminds me of the conversation I overheard between Gale and Peeta that time we were hiding out in Tigris' basement. They said I would choose whoever I thought I couldn't survive without. I think I understand what that truly means to me now. It seemed quite selfish at the time but I think after spending all my life being entirely selfish save for Prim, I have little care for self-preservation now. My selfish heart is so good at blocking people out I've even done it to my own mother. It's my heart and soul that need to survive, and thrive again.

So later that night, I thank Peeta for saving me from myself that day. But his reply surprises me, "It was selfish. I was only thinking of saving you for myself."

He's the most unselfish person I've ever known so the idea baffles me. Does that mean that even then, half out of his mind, he still loved me? I can't comprehend that right now. If that's how he felt then, why is it that he's so unsure now? It was only days ago that I asked if he loved me and he didn't answer. Couldn't or wouldn't though?

And then there was a spark of realisation and for a moment it seems like I never truly understood him before this moment. "Wouldn't," I say out loud by accident. He would never say anything because he didn't want me to feel pressured, or guilted, or like I should give him a false idea of my true feelings out of respect for him. So he must love me then...? Has he come home for me, to save me, and to win my heart? I know in my head that no one could ever love me better than Peeta – Gale's hate for the Capitol had always outweighed his feelings for me. But could I love him back the way he deserves?

One of the questions I've often asked myself before was what if there was no Gale? Would I be head over heels for Peeta? But now that Gale isn't in my life and probably won't be ever again...well, now I'm starting to realise that I've been using Gale as a shield, an excuse, because his absence hasn't helped me to figure out what I'm feeling, but I can definitely feel the chains around my heart that he helped to put there start to slip away and it feels liberating. And all of a sudden it all feels rather inevitable. Me and Peeta.

"What did you say, Katniss?"

"Oh, nothing, just thinking out loud."

And we carry on as we always have, putting the finishing touches on Madge's page. We've decided to give the book to Haymitch so he can fill in a few more missing details for us. The next shipment of liquor is in a week so he's sobering up right now. Hopefully that means he won't be as dead to the world as he usually is.

* * *

><p>"Peeta, do you think you would've said anything if we hadn't been reaped?" I ask him one day. I don't think I've ever given much thought to 'what ifs' but it looks like I'm doing it more and more lately.<p>

He pauses for a moment and his eyes squeeze shut. He's having a flashback. When it passes and he regains his composure, he finally says, "Probably not." He's thinking about it like he can't quite remember his old self. I can see why he's having trouble remembering. When I think of my pre-Games self I feel such a sense of detachment. How could Peeta have even loved that person?

"I thought at the time that you and Gale had something going on, that's why I never said anything. I felt like I had nothing to lose when I told Haymitch and Flickerman. I didn't think I'd make it out of there alive. And if it all hadn't happened...then I don't think anything would've come between you and Gale." I feel like I'm in his shoes just for a moment and it breaks my heart to know that the only choice he thought he had was death. Obviously, that was a pretty good assumption at the time but Haymitch used it against him to further my progress in the Games. I can't in all honesty even deny that Gale and I might have grown closer over time despite my aversion to marriage and all the rest.

I owe it to him to tell him, "I don't have any feelings for Gale. I want you to know that. I'm certain of it now." It's not _exactly_ what he wants to hear, I know, but that's all I can offer him right now.

His mouth curves up a little at the corners. I imagine him doing a little fist pump in his mind. He could never be so crass, I know, but I'm not Peeta am I? I would just like to imagine a happier version of him.

"Good," he says. "I don't think I could take it if you said you might still feel something for him."

And I feel now that bit by bit the brick wall between us being whittled away to near-nothing. It's just now up to me to give it that final kick. And I'm so scared.

* * *

><p>Haymitch exceeds all our expectations when he returns our tribute book. We honestly never thought he'd get past one or two entries. In fact he's done 23 years' worth, all the way from the 51st right up to the 73rd Hunger Games, the one before mine and Peeta's. With the tapes Effie gave us, Peeta starts work on the portraits Haymitch left space for. Not having known them, he doesn't get into quite as much detail so he finishes in a matter of days. Once it's done we protect it, seal it, include a few mementos like a pressed evening primrose bloom from the plant outside and the photograph of Finnick and Annie's child.<p>

It takes pride of place in the most inconspicuous of places, in my drawer next to our family's plant book. And that's when I find it. I'd almost forgotten it. Is this the only thing he ever truly gave me? It's the pearl. I can't believe it managed to find its way back. I don't even recall putting it here, but of course I don't. I wasn't even in my right mind at the time I was exiled here. It takes me back to that one unguarded moment on the beach. It's the one memory I never wanted Snow to distort with his trackerjacker venom.

Peeta's never mentioned it once. Is it possible for the venom to completely remove memories? I sure hope not.

There's a locket in the drawer as well, a different one from the one Peeta gave me the first time. That one was a weapon more than a gift, with which he was trying to manipulate me back then so I now look back on that particular speech with a frown. What I said back then is just as true now as it was then.

I pick up this locket which just has an old-looking scrollwork pattern on it instead of a mockingjay. I click it open and inside I find photographs inside just like before, except that instead of Gale staring from inside, it's a photo of Peeta. Seeing all of them smiling back at me, Peeta, Prim and my mother...well, it makes me choke back on the tears that are starting to spring up. I lock the pearl inside and slip the chain over my head. I sink into the corner like a tonne of bricks.

I spend the afternoon crying my heart out until I don't even know why I'm crying anymore. It could be for Prim. Or it could be for my father. My broken family. I don't want to think I can get this upset over Peeta.

So when he finds me there with my tear-stained cheeks I can't say a single thing. He joins me up against my wall and just holds me. He rocks me in his arms.

He's my dandelion in the spring, the sign of hope, my future. Gale is now just somebody that I used to know, my past, a destructive force that I don't need in my gravitational field. I'm self-destructive enough as it is. It's always been Peeta, I realise.

I look straight into his worried eyes and without saying anything, I bring my lips to his in a kiss that tries to convey all that I couldn't muster the strength to put into words. It's that hunger. It simply feels like I can't get enough of him, and he responds with his own desperation for me. It feels like we're back on the beach again but absolutely nothing's stopping us from going as far as the moment dictates. There's no one watching, no one listening, no one who already knows what's going to happen next. Absolutely nothing but the two of us and the joining of soft mouths fighting for purchase as if stopping will tear us abruptly away in a bright spark of lightning. No one's about to die this time but my heart clenches with the force of the rush of feelings, it's almost like I am. Our kisses turn to small pecks, nipping at each other's lips, finally tearing ourselves reluctantly from each other. We lean our foreheads together and stare into each other's eyes. We both smile.

"Our kiss on the beach. Real or not real?" He asks with his face so full of hope that I could never have said 'not real' even if that was the truth.

"Real. Completely real. And it was real for me too." I open up the locket and tip out the pearl I put inside onto his palm. For me it has come to symbolise the beach and the closeness we achieved in those final hours of the Quell, and like we were on the verge of something...real...except we never got the chance. Until now. He stares at it in fascination, like it's the first time seeing and touching physical evidence of a distrusted memory.

"I always thought it could never be real. But I clung to it anyway through the worst times even though I was convinced that it was planted there just to give me false hope," he says this all very fast like it was bursting to come out and he just couldn't hold it in any longer. And breathlessly, there are those words, "I'm still in love with you. You don't have to love me back, but I can't go on another day without you knowing that I never stopped loving you. I should have told you every day since I got back. But I could see you weren't ready to hear that from me when I saw you that first day when I planted those primrose bushes."

"How can you still love me? Why do you love me?" I can't comprehend it. I don't deserve him. I practically used him and spat him out into the arms of the Capitol, and yet he still finds something worth loving.

"How could I stop? They can trick me all they want but they couldn't beat it out of me. And Katniss, everyone has flaws. But that doesn't mean you're not worth loving. You don't seem to be able to see the forest for the trees."

He presses his lips to the inside of my wrist in the most feather-light of kisses. He places the pearl in my palm and wraps my fingers around it for me with both his hands. Squeezing tight, he leaves me there to start on making us something for dinner. My breakdown has left that chore unattended and yet he never complains about anything.

I wonder what he'd say if I told him that he was perfect, that he didn't have any flaws. He would probably just laugh and assure me that he did. I must be seeing a forest of perfect trees in him then. What a silly notion, really, if you think about it. But then I regain my wits and realise that perhaps what I see in him is exactly what he sees in me.

It feels like a glimpse into what it means to love.

* * *

><p>AN: In the words of Beyonce (sort of), if you like it then you should put a review on it :) Please let me know what you think. This may not nearly be my first fic but it is my first HG one and I'm finding it somewhat difficult getting into Katniss' head so let me know if you think I'm on track.<p>

Next part is the big finale...


	3. Part 3

Title: The Next Chapter

Author: Ellipses

Rating: M

Disclaimer: Don't own the characters or anything really except my own words.

Summary: After returning to District 12, how on earth did two broken souls end up finding their way back to each other? (Expanded Mockingjay chapter 27) K/P, 3-part.

_Warning – this is the chapter that makes this story rated M._

**Part 3**

That night I lay awake in bed, alone this time, still wearing the locket with the pearl inside. Actually I'm clutching it like someone might take it from me in my sleep, but I can't sleep anyway what with all these conversations between us running through my head. I try walking around, reading a book, taking a drink of water. But none of those things relieve the feeling inside that something's not right. So without thinking I put my hunting jacket over my nightclothes and end up at Peeta's house, knocking on his door.

Although I'm not sure how I got there or what exactly tipped the scales, but I know that this is what would've happened anyway. Choosing Peeta – choosing the future, and the total honesty of his love. How could I ever have doubted us or considered anyone else to be his equal in any way?

He's bleary-eyed when he answers the door, dressed in nothing but his boxers. At the sight of his tortured expression I know I woke him from a nightmare. I want to kiss the frown off his face, the fear from his eyes, the scars from his body. I leap straight into his arms and kiss him with the full force of my feelings for him. It's that hunger again that I felt on the beach and earlier tonight. Like a hollow day, taking more and more just makes that hunger more intense.

His strong arms wrap around my waist and hold me tightly against him, my feet aren't touching the floor and with this heady feeling it's almost as if I'm floating like a cloud. The strength of his embrace reminds me that he'd never let me go. I know now that that's what I'll do, too. I will never make that mistake again.

Before either of us know what's happening, he's carrying me up the stairs to his room and my hunting jacket finds itself forgotten on the floor. My back finds contact with soft tangled blankets. We've never slept in the same bed in this state of undress before. It's the first time and I'm so very aware of the tingling, like electricity, of the feeling of his bare skin on my skin, the weight of him covering me from head to toe. I'm not sure either of us know what we're doing, in fact I'm certain neither of us have a clue, but we both know that this just doesn't seem close enough. There's still clothes separating us, keeping us from becoming joined as one.

The gentle touch of his fingertips along the side of my body, so light it's almost as if he's not even touching me, runs under my shirt from my hip to the side of my breast and back down again. It sends shivers down my spine, yet it feels like fire at the same time. I never want it to stop but it also feels like agony...and it's agony when he stops as well. There are goosebumps all over my arms but although the window is open, it's not because I'm cold.

He replaces his hands with kisses, here and there, on my forehead, temples, eyelids, my ears, down my neck and down, down, down until he stops at my bellybutton. He's discovered my one ticklish spot, and I'm squirming – whether it's to get away or to press closer still, I don't care – but it leaves me feeling incredibly flushed and far too excited. My heart's racing like a hummingbird and I'm sure he can tell. To me my heartbeats sound like thunder in my ears. Surely he can hear it too. Can he see my heart trying to burst out of my chest? Because that's what it feels like it's doing right now.

His lips return to mine but his hands continue their pursuit, grazing over my scars as if they were actually the softest silk. I feel his fingers tracing little circles on the insides of my thighs and I know I sigh out loud. I draw his body closer to mine and we are tangled, like a knot that try as you might, can't be undone. I can feel his heartbeat through the thin material of my shirt and I can tell it's racing just as fast as mine and in my heart, I decide that this could not feel more right.

We're both breathing fast and deep, and the warmth of these little puffs of air seem like they're filling the room with heat impossibly fast. But all of a sudden, the air gets ice cold as he pulls away from me. The loss of contact is excruciating.

He's propped up on his elbows gazing down at me when he says, "Are you sure?"

I nod, and that seems to be enough of an answer for him because he's trailing kisses down my neck and between my breasts now, again tantalising my ticklish spot with a light nip of his teeth. He gingerly fingers the edge of my shirt as if waiting for my assent. I nod again and before I can comprehend it my bare flesh is cooled by the loss of the layer separating us. I feel a little self-conscious as he takes his time removing the locket as well, placing it carefully beside the pillow. All the while he's taking in the sight of me while I do the same to him. I shiver involuntarily and then he's covering me again like a blanket. It's a delicious feeling, skin on skin. I could get addicted to it.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders to pull him closer and the feel of whip-like scars flit across my attention, leaving as quickly as it came. His mouth wavers a little against mine at the touch, so I know it's not just my imagination. I'm vaguely aware of his artificial leg but it doesn't seem to be affecting his ability to express his desire; I even feel it nudging my legs apart a little. He settles down between my legs and I can feel the full force of his arousal pressing against me.

He's asking me again if I'm sure and I can clearly see the urgency in his eyes, willing me not to change my mind. It's sweet of him to ask, and although my head is spinning I say it loud and clear, "Yes, now please don't stop." It comes out a little like a moan, but I'm not ashamed. Clearly, we both want this just as much as each other.

There are just a few more scraps of fabric separating us and these find their way onto the floor next to my jacket and the anticipation gives us pause to catch our breaths and take in the sight of each others' scarred bodies.

Peeta's eyes drop and he asks, "Are you disappointed by what you see?" There's nothing I see or know that disappoints me about him, not even his artificial leg.

"You're perfect just as you are. And you?"

"Not at all," he grins and flips us so that I'm straddling his hips now and I don't hesitate to take advantage of the position. I pin his arms down and get to work on returning the favour of torturous kisses and touches. I'm not really sure what I should be doing or where, but he's definitely showing his appreciation for the sensations I'm stirring up. I don't even want to explore the possibilities of touching _that_ part of him, but considering I'm only a beginner, I think we can go slow. Maybe next time. He doesn't seem to need any more stimulation right now...

I think I'm right about that because he mutters something like "can't take it" and he's flipped us back the other way and he's hovering over me again. He's poised at my entrance and it's like his eyes are asking for permission a third and final time and instead of a reply, I send an invitation with a kiss and a nudge of the hips.

We're from District 12, not born with our eyes closed, so when I feel a sharp pain I know what it means. The pain soon dissolves and is replaced by the sensation of fire consuming me from the inside. Just not in the literal sense like I'm already familiar with. A confusing mix of something indescribable starts to build up within as we begin a steady rhythm and my senses seem to go wild and completely escape me. On one hand it feels so all-consuming that I don't want to ever stop, but on the other hand I want it to stop because I feel so overwhelmed.

It still seems like we aren't close enough even though he's inside me so I open myself to him further and deepen the contact. Now that he's sure I don't want to be treated like I'm wrapped in cotton wool, he takes advantage of the position. It's as if we're gradually reaching closer to heaven. I don't know if there's a heaven or a God, but I take his name over and over as we get so close I can almost touch it. The moment is interrupted when he makes me laugh by reminding me that his name is Peeta, not God. With that break in concentration in the mechanics of it all, we both lose ourselves to sensation.

And there it is, the release we were both working towards and I feel a burst within me not unlike an explosion except that it has me quaking rather than burning up. I'm rocked with waves and waves of it until it finally dulls down and has us both in a thrum of ectasy and exhaustion at the same time. We settle down against the pillows to catch our breath and wait for our hearts to return to their normal rhythm. It seems like forever until it does.

I will never regret what just happened. I know in my soul that he's the One and we were meant to share this with one another.

We gaze at each other from opposite sides of the bed. We're not touching but I feel like we don't need to right now since it's as if we're connected somehow. Our sleepy eyes start to droop and we both drift into a shallow sleep. I even dream. I haven't dreamt properly in ages, but even in my dreams Peeta is right next to me the whole time.

When my eyes open again I find that it's well past our usual waking time so the sunshine makes my eyes hurt. He's still sleeping peacefully though and it's a comforting sight that I want to see every day for the rest of my life. I know it's unrealistic to hope for such a miracle, but even one less sleepless night is better than none. I mentally trace the shape of his features. I'm no artist, but I'm trying to commit him to memory so that I can remember this perfect moment forever.

I don't want the sun to wake him, so I get up to close the blinds. The District 12 I see out that window is no longer the charred graveyard I first saw when 13 allowed me to visit. It looks like it's thriving. I even see dandelions sprouting from cracks in the pavement.

From behind me, a sleepy voice asks, "You love me. Real or not real?"

I turn around and I tell him, "Real."

* * *

><p>I can't really recall a time in my life where I felt like things were looking up and that my future appeared to be safe. I probably will never believe the future is safe, but Peeta brings me the hope that someday it will be. I never realised what it would be like to let someone into my heart like I have since that night when I gathered up my fears, left them behind and never looked back. When I kicked down that final piece of the wall separating the two of us. I didn't even know what I was doing when I showed up on his doorstep but now I know what it feels like to know that I will never have to be alone and that I have someone to share my life with.<p>

I have been alone for too long in my short life. Of course I had my family, but ever since my father's death, the burden of taking care of them kept me away from developing that closeness that normal families do. Like playing together after school. Or helping siblings with their homework. Doing chores together. I suppose what I mean is that being the pseudo-parent in our family meant I never got to be a proper sister and daughter. Perhaps it even robbed me of my family in a way. None of that means I ever loved them any less though, it just means that I know what I've truly lost now. And gained back in Peeta.

Are we still engaged (technically)? I don't even know. Maybe almost killing each other qualifies as a breakup. Either way, he's my family now. And Haymitch, too, if you must count him. He still looks out for us even though he doesn't really need to anymore. I've decided that he must just be lazy because he can't be so attached to us that he would refuse all the roles in the Capitol offered by Paylor. Unlike Gale, his devotion to the cause ended with the destruction of Snow. And then I recalled the drawer of things including the pearl, the plant book and the other belongings salvaged from my compartment in District 13. That locket though, was not the original. I don't even know what became of it in the end. I know that Peeta didn't put it there so it only left one suspect.

I won't go out of my way to acknowledge the gift since I know he will hate that, but it's like he was trying to send me a message except we're not in the Games anymore. I imagine it's telling me,_ I'm sorry for not saving Peeta like you asked me to. This is the best I can do now._

Apology accepted.

In the end we're only 18 so we decide that our fake engagement was technically over as soon as the force field was destroyed. We've made a promise to each other though and that's good enough for now. I think I'll need time to accustom myself to the idea of marriage being a good idea. I've spent so long telling myself that I never will that I don't know what to do with myself now that all I want is to spend the rest of my life with Peeta. And although that doesn't mean that we can't be one of those couples who just never toast the bread, I know that it's what he wants. And I just want what he wants. What makes him happy. I also have to admit that it would be nice to make it official though – 'hands off, he's mine' is what I'm hoping to declare. We don't need any of that to be _truly_ happy though.

That's what we've been since that night. Happy. It took us a long way to get here, but there's no turning back now. Not even a visit from Gale could shake us. He's not going to visit though. He almost said as much in a letter he wrote me. Said it would be too painful for him to see me right now. He must've heard about Peeta and I from my mother (or anyone else – word travels fast – Panem's fascination with us doesn't seem to have died with Snow's regime).

My house is now 'Our House', and even thinking those words makes my heart warm up and flutter a little. I've turned into a schoolgirl with schoolgirl dreams, but luckily that's only when it comes to Peeta. The hunter in me is still as fierce as ever and my strength builds with each and every day. I almost feel back to normal in that regard. I'll never set traps so well as Gale, but I'm still a cracking shot.

The game caught is now spread between trading with those who have re-established the Hob, Greasy Sae's soup kitchen and my own kitchen. The Hob's trading is no longer illegal so it's actually more like a marketplace now. Soon there won't be any need for me to continue to hunt, but I will keep doing it anyway to keep myself sane. At the moment I only help out at the bakery once in a while but I prefer not to. I have no aspirations to the role of the baker's wife. Not because I don't want to spend all my time in Peeta's company but because I enjoy his homecoming so much.

When he walks through the door he's always carrying the aroma of fresh baked goods with him, along with actual baked goods as well. The smell and sight of him coming home makes all my worries disappear and when he gives me a kiss, even when he's exhausted, it's like...we're both coming home. Safe. Another day that's brought us back into each other's arms at the end of it.

He's teaching cakes and frosting to his apprentices at the moment so lately he's been bringing back samples from the lesson. Sometimes it's a design he's been perfecting for sale in the bakery. Sometimes it's a design that's just for me, like the one he did for my birthday in May. Either way it always looks and tastes delicious and although they remind me of moments with Prim, they are memories I'm happy to be reminded of now. I don't want to forget those little things about her. And I'm excited to see Peeta doing what he's good at again since I know it's what he loves to do. Seeing those cakes in the windows again reassures me that things are on their way back to normal.

This must be what it's like to be normal, whatever that means. We've lived enough for a lifetime and now this is like a reward. Real or not real? I want to pinch myself sometimes.

Of course it's not always sunshine and roses. All that living has piled up on us and there are still times where we'll have nightmares, often waking up sweaty, shaking and frenzied. Those are the times that bring me back down to earth and we spend the night telling each other that it's okay. He's better at it than I am.

I'm getting better at opening up to him as well. After spending most of my life keeping people out, I've found it really hard to let him in to see the real Katniss. We once had a long talk about our first Games since we never really got that chance, not in relation to our "alliance". Although I still don't fully understand my motivations at the time, he was finally able to fully understand and see things from my shoes. How I could have misinterpreted things the way I did. How Haymitch manipulated us both. But if we had both known each other's true feelings it would have been disastrous. We can't stay angry with him for it anymore – we're both alive because of it.

He told me about the betrayal he felt when we had that conversation on the way back home. He even admitted to near-hatred of me for a while, and Gale as well. Snow was cruel enough to use the footage he managed to get of the two of us in that one kiss in the forest as a form of torture. He said it still haunts him even though he rationally knows it and believes me when I tell him that Gale and I were never and never will be anything more than friends. Whenever I tell him that I love him, I always make it a point to say "I love you _Peeta_" in an attempt to banish all of the bad memories.

I reckon he didn't tell me the whole story about that though, because he often thrashes and shouts "No, get off her!" over and over when he has that nightmare. I've never told him that that's what he does. He most definitely sees a hijacked version of it. I don't know how far it goes, but I think he thinks I'll somehow feel hurt by such an invasion of my privacy. I know I would go insane if I ever saw Peeta making love to someone else, even if I knew it wasn't real.

My own nightmares are usually ones which feature people who I know to be dead – sometimes it's bloody and I actually see them dying, sometimes they're saying terrible things to me. Blaming me for what happened to them. The worst one is when I see Rue trapped in the net, asking me why I didn't save her. Over and over. I wake up from those with tears on my pillow. It's okay though, because Peeta is always right there next to me stroking my hair and wiping my tears away.

He surprises me with the little things that he does that's so thoughtful that most of the time I don't think that I deserve him. Like when I first asked him to move in with me, he insisted on not rushing into things. I thought it was strange considering we were practically living together already. He was definitely teasing me though when he started moving his stuff over one or two pieces at a time – I'd find a pair of pants in my pantry, or his toothbrush on the coffee table – until I got fed up and moved all his stuff in the middle of the night. We haven't turned back since.

I've been talking to my mother on the phone a bit more lately and she told me her most valuable piece of advice about relationships: you should never go to bed angry with each other. Luckily, when we argue, we can't take each other seriously for very long so we just end up laughing about it and kissing on the couch.

There will come a day when that advice will really come in handy. I know how he feels about kids. Again, we're too young to be thinking so far ahead, but that's going to become a sticking point between us, I know. I'm dreading that conversation. But at the end of the day, I don't think I'll be able to say no. One of these days I'm going to have to admit that my love for Peeta outweighs my fear for our future. For now, I'll hang on to my fears. It's hard to let go of them when they've been around for over ten years. Maybe it'll take another ten years for me to let go.

_End_

* * *

><p>AN: So, what did you think? Please review!<p>

Let me explain one thing here. This story is based on Suzanne Collins' use of just one word: "after". If you don't know what I mean, please reference the last few lines of chapter 27 of Mockingjay. This is what I imagined happened "before", and I'm very satisfied that I got to put into words what Suzanne couldn't.

I'm working on a new, longer, K/P fic which is projected to be about 10 chapters. Since I'm dreadfully slow at writing, I don't tend to post things unless they're done or nearly done. So that you don't die from waiting on me, please set an Author Alert if you wish to know when I finally do post it.

Btw, has anyone else noticed that K/P's possible nicknames are all dreadful? Like KatPee and Peeniss...? It sucks having to refer to them as just K/P. -_Edit: thank you reviewers, I shall be using Everlark from now on then._


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